


Perfect Fit

by redredribbons



Category: Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Consentacles, Fluff and Smut, Groping, Immobility, Mouth Kink, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, general silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 22:03:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15917145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redredribbons/pseuds/redredribbons
Summary: Having just moved to San Francisco, Eddie is eager for a fresh start-- with a little help from his Other, of course. Set shortly after Eddie arrives in San Francisco, AUish from there.





	Perfect Fit

**Author's Note:**

> I know this isn't exactly what happens when Eddie moves to San Francisco, but I like to entertain scenarios where he can actually experience happiness since canon never seems to let him do that!

Despite moving to San Francisco for a fresh start, Eddie had never been able to shake the feeling that his reputation preceded him. He’d given up setting foot in any newspaper offices back in New York. In the end, even the tabloid rags wanted nothing to do with him. 

 

That had been the final straw. Eddie packed a suitcase, sold his remaining possessions for cash, and bought a one-way ticket to the opposite side of the country. Though there was no point in suffering further humiliation at the hands of reputable newspaper outlets-- the Sin-Eater debacle had made national news, after all-- San Francisco’s journalism scene had its own thriving underbelly that either didn’t know or didn’t care.

 

Pride was the price Eddie had to pay to keep a roof over his head, apparently. Earlier that week he’d dropped off his resume with the bored-looking receptionist at the office of the _Bay Area Truth Teller_. The publication had caught his eye on newsstands at the seedier bodegas in his neighborhood. It screamed at him with headlines like _“Giant Squirrels Among Us: The Secret Menace”_ and _“What The Government Won’t Tell You About Swamp Gas”_. Cringe-worthy, embarrassing... and, sadly, exactly the right speed for this stage of Eddie’s career, if he could even call it that anymore. When the old phone on the wall of his tenement room rang the following day, Eddie nearly jumped through the ceiling. He was pretty sure the last person who called him had been one of the divorce lawyers, what felt like an eternity ago.

 

This would be his first job interview in years and Eddie figured he ought to clean up a bit, regardless of how disreputable his prospective employer may be. He hadn’t been shaving regularly and his razor was dull. He flinched when it nicked into the skin just under his jaw. No sooner had a droplet of blood formed than a long tongue materialized to lap it up. Another lick, and the small wound fully closed.

 

“Thanks,” Eddie said, then smiled when the Symbiote’s face formed above his shoulder.

 

“Careful, Eddie,” the Symbiote chided him, “Today is important.”

 

“I guess,” Eddie replied, splashing water on his face, “Not exactly my dream job, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

 

“You need this,” the Symbiote said. 

 

Eddie responded with a noncommittal grunt, but he knew the Symbiote was right. Beyond the practicalities of food and shelter, there was the possibility of feeling like a normal, functional member of society again. Of being good for something, even if that something was dressing up outrageous fiction as fact. There was a time in Eddie’s life when he would’ve been appalled at the very notion-- yet another moral scruple that Peter Parker had neatly put an end to. 

 

Satisfied with his face and hair, Eddie adjusted the towel around his waist then stepped back into his room to dig through his small dresser. Threadbare t-shirts, hoodies, a couple pairs of jeans with holes in them. He frowned as he pulled out each piece of clothing, scrutinized it, then tossed it on the floor. The hoodies were the least raggedy-looking, but still nowhere close to professional attire. 

 

“Let me help,” the Symbiote said.

 

“What, you got money for new clothes stashed somewhere? Been holding out on me?” Eddie teased, his brow quirking.

 

“Have an idea. Watch.”

 

A tendril snaked down Eddie’s body to tug at the towel. 

 

“We don’t have time for that right now,” Eddie snapped. Physical intimacy with the Symbiote began as a slippery slope that rapidly turned into a free fall. It had been so easy, given the intense emotional connection they shared. Perhaps it should have been horrifying, or at least strange, but for Eddie it was the most natural thing he’d ever done. 

 

The Symbiote rippled with amusement. “Later. Don’t worry.”

 

Seemingly random memories began to burst into Eddie’s mind with vivid clarity: a sure sign that the Symbiote was rifling through them. It burrowed back before their time together, before they met, before the Sin-Eater, before his triumphs at the Daily Globe... to the very first time he’d ever set foot in those offices. 

 

The Symbiote coiled around his shoulders, swirling and seething, its mass occasionally flaring into random shapes. Then, inch by inch, it began to seep down his body. It wasn’tuntil the Symbiote reached his pectorals that Eddie realized it was altering its form one coil a time like strands of yarn on a loom. Whatever it was doing appeared to require a lot of concentration, and Eddie stood very still. He didn’t resist when the Symbiote nudged his arms upward to continue its incremental progress. 

 

Eddie glanced down at his arm, glanced away... and then his entire head snapped back, eyes wide. A _sleeve_ had appeared there. Dark navy blue with gold buttons at the cuff. His torso, he discovered, was now covered with what looked for all the world like a pressed shirt, maroon tie, and the notched lapels of a familiar suit jacket.

 

“Holy crap. How did you...” Eddie whispered in awe. He knew the Symbiote could shapeshift and camouflage, but this was a whole new level. 

 

“With difficulty. So many details, and your memories are blurry,” the Symbiote said as it curled around his feet to form a glossy pair of oxfords. Fascinated, Eddie ran his hands down his chest. Despite a convincing visual illusion, the Symbiote felt nothing at all like real fabric. 

 

“I... wow. Thank you. You’re amazing, you know that? What would I do without you?” Eddie said. For once he wished he still owned a full-length mirror. 

 

He grabbed his keys and wallet and, without thinking, attempted to shove them into a back pocket. A couple of tendrils snapped out to catch them before they hit the floor.

 

“Yes, I’ll hold those for you,” the Symbiote gave a playful growl. 

 

“Sorry. Habit,” Eddie muttered.

 

At first it felt strange to walk outside like this, among the throngs of people on the sidewalk, in the station, on the train. The usual feel of cloth on his body was replaced by the easy slide of the Symbiote’s smoothness as it hung relaxed on his frame. It wasn’t quite like being fused as Venom, when there was no distinction at all between the Symbiote and himself. It felt more like those times at night when they... something pinched Eddie’s inner thigh, and he jerked up straight.

 

_Not now_ , the Symbiote mimicked his earlier words. Eddie cleared his throat and re-directed his thoughts toward his carefully rehearsed interview answers, wondering if he’d be lucky enough to use them this time.

 

* * *

 

Eddie hadn’t expected anything at all to come of the interview. But the _Truth Teller’s_ editor-in-chief had only a passing interest in his journalistic credentials, and was far more interested in his ability to concoct outlandish tales. Eddie had no shortage of those, and his insistence that they weren’t fiction only sealed the deal.

 

_That kind of conviction is exactly what we need from our writers, Mr. Brock,_ the editor told him, _Our readers won’t buy the story if you don’t. Your pitch about the alien tentacle monster lurking in the sewer? Punchy stuff. I want you to start next Monday._

 

Now Eddie was trying to hold back a grin the entire train ride home. A steady paycheck-- albeit a small one obtained via somewhat ignoble means-- still felt too good to be true. 

 

_You deserve it,_ the Symbiote whispered to him, _Tentacle monster, though? Really?_

 

_Oh hush, I knew he’d eat it up. Doesn’t mean I_ have _to write about it. And you performed perfectly. That guy had no idea what he was really looking at._

 

_Perhaps we should show him next time_. The Symbiote tightened minutely around Eddie’s hips. Still slightly giddy from his unexpected success, Eddie was once again hyperaware of the Symbiote draped all over his body. 

 

_No, we shouldn’t,_ Eddie scolded half-heartedly. The Symbiote had weight to it that clothes didn’t. That weight seemed to concentrate itself into a firm press between his thighs.

 

_Hey!_ Eddie swiftly crossed his legs. 

 

_You were thinking it_.

 

_That doesn’t mean you can just... we’re on the_ train. _Wait til we get home._

 

_Can you?_

 

Eddie dug his nails into the heel of his hand when something brushed over his nipples. 

 

_Should I spend my first paycheck on a_ real _suit? One that won’t feel me up?_

 

_Boring_. 

 

The gentle pressure between his legs didn’t move at all, but it didn’t let up either. A quick glance down at his lap revealed nothing amiss. To the outside world, the Symbiote was nothing more than a pair of well-tailored dress pants. 

 

_You? Are a naughty tentacle monster. Back to the sewers with you._

 

_Oh, do you want me to stop?_

 

_I didn’t say that. We get off next._

 

_We certainly will._

 

As the train squealed to a halt, Eddie coughed into his shoulder to conceal a quiet laugh. The Symbiote didn’t stop when Eddie exited the train. Quite the opposite; it adjusted its hold so that each step he took resulted in its soft folds rubbing on him. He was rock hard by the time he arrived at his door, and was grateful that the Symbiote was merciful enough to use its shapeshifting abilities in preservation of his dignity. 

 

_No one else can see you like this, Eddie. Only for me._

 

“Almost there,” Eddie panted as he fumbled with his keys. He cursed when he nearly dropped them. 

 

It was all Eddie could do to restrain a moan as thin, whisp-like tendrils began stroking him. Key. In door. Open door. Never had a few simple movements seemed so difficult. He’d barely turned the knob when a firm shove propelled him into the room. The door slammed shut behind him. Eddie’s first impulse was the bed, but his arms yanked toward the nearest wall instead. His palms hit the plaster with a dull slap. The sleeves of his suit jacket melted down over his forearms and _held_. Eddie wanted to touch-- himself, the Symbiote undulating against him, all of them together-- but his hands were completely immobilized. The Symbiote sensed his frustration and answered with a trilling, amused purr. The sound was audible, meaning the creature had materialized its face somewhere, but Eddie couldn’t turn his head far enough to see. Instead he looked down at himself: the facsimile of clothing had dissolved into rippling darkness that clung to every line of his body. When the Symbiote squeezed, it was like a hundred hands on him at once, touching him everywhere. 

 

“Please, baby,” Eddie moaned, “You’re teasing--”

 

“Oh? All you’ve thought about since leaving that office is how I feel on you,” the Symbiote hissed. It parted like a black velvet curtain to reveal naked flesh. “When you think these things...” 

 

Eddie bit his lip when razor-sharp fangs caught the thin, sensitive skin at the small of his back.

 

“...I _taste_ it.”

 

Firm, deliciously wet warmth laved up the column of Eddie’s spine as the Symbiote’s tongue mapped out one vertebrae at at time. Breath nearly forgotten, Eddie inhaled a shuddering gasp, then exhaled a soft sigh when the Symbiote’s mouth came to rest on the back of his neck. 

 

“Sweet...” the Symbiote’s voice had dropped to a deep growl that vibrated in the pit of Eddie’s stomach. Its tongue extended further to wrap fully around his throat. The tip squirmed its way into his mouth.

 

_Tempting._

 

Clusters of thick, ropey tentacles grasped Eddie’s ass and spread him apart. They almost felt like hands, but too large, too many appendages, too powerful to be human. Eddie wondered if they’d leave bruises. The Symbiote responded with a clench hard enough to make Eddie grunt around the tongue filling his mouth. A thin tendril brushed between his cheeks but didn’t linger.

 

_Now you’re_ definitely _teasing._

 

The tongue slurped out of Eddie’s mouth, then smeared his face with their combined saliva as it unwrapped from around his neck.

 

“Of course,” the Symbiote purred, “Your need is delicious...”

 

Goosebumps erupted across Eddie’s skin as those long fangs prickled against his neck, jaw, and ear with every word. 

 

“...and your desire is intoxicating.”

 

More tendrils, each one jagged and soft and lovely, stretched around onto his chest. Eddie could only watch, jaw hanging slack, as those ebony ribbons slithered over his sweat-slick skin. The sight was so alien, so bizarrely erotic, that his hips began to twitch and thrust in a desperate search for friction. 

 

“So unlike any other host.”

 

The Symbiote indulged him a little by spiderwebbing delicate strands around his aching erection. Eddie swore incoherently and squirmed anew against the Symbiote’s unrelenting hold.

 

“You welcome me in.”

 

Something sharp-- Eddie wasn’t sure if it was claws or more teeth--raked over his hard nipples, drawing a yelp from him.

 

_Oh God, yes, yes, I’m yours, anything you want._ Eddie could no longer tell whether or not he was speaking out loud. 

 

“I want _you_ , Eddie. All of you.”

 

The creature sprawled across his abs to feel the muscles there flutter with each shallow breath. 

 

“And you want me, don’t you?”

 

“I _need_ you!” Eddie whined, not even trying to hide the desperation in his voice. There was no point; the Symbiote felt everything. It freed him from the artifice of shame. 

 

The Symbiote purred, practically vibrating against his skin. Its tendrils crawled lower, down Eddie’s abs, over his hips, and finally circling the base of his shaft. There was an instant of stillness, and then it engulfed him. Eddie couldn’t hold in a shout, thin walls be damned. Distantly, he knew he’d never been this vocal during sex before the Symbiote, but it was as perfect at fulfilling him in this way as it was in all others. So tight and silky around him as it pulsed along his length from base to tip. Eddie barely noticed the scrape of a fang along his cheek when his head fell back. The Symbiote cradled him and moved with him as he rocked his hips. It was speaking: not with words this time, but images. Eddie saw himself as the Symbiote did. Vulnerable. Raw. Needy. Tongue curling around his jaw to taste his sweat. A slick tentacle pushing in and out of his ass. When Eddie came, both filled and surrounded, he lost himself in their union, no longer able to discern where he ended and the Symbiote began. 

 

Eddie returned to the sensation of being held. His legs had given out but the Symbiote easily supported him in its many-limbed embrace. A tiny lick flickered across his cheek.

 

“Okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Eddie rasped. His whole body felt wonderfully warm and languid and sore in the same satisfying way as when he finished a hard workout. “You’re so good to me, baby.”

 

“Need to rest?” the Symbiote nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

 

“Nah, I’m fine,” Eddie said, stretching as he found his feet again, “I should at least start on a few story ideas for next week.”

 

“Already? You have five days,” the Symbiote protested. It was steering his body back across the room toward the bed. Eddie’s notebook was on the desk, but he couldn’t bring himself to shun his other’s care. 

 

“And you are a bad influence,” Eddie smiled and shook his head as he flopped down on the bed. The Symbiote instantly clung to him, and he absently stroked its face, occasionally pausing to twine its tongue around his finger. Eddie glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was mid-afternoon. He hadn’t eaten lunch. He needed another shower. But maybe, for once, everything could wait. Just for a little while. After all, he’d finally found steady work. Peter Parker and the Sin-Eater were thousands of miles behind him. Eddie hated to hope-- it hurt too much-- but maybe, just this once, everything could be okay.

 

“Like this,” the Symbiote murmured, “With me. Just for a little while.” 


End file.
